Everyday since she left it seems as if the world is going to just stop spinning. The feeling lingers like a cough or a sigh, a slight pain in the head that happens when you're alone.

I don't want to think about it, so just let the world end while I sleep on it.

They end their flight
one by one---
crows at dusk.

As a youth I chugged
life with open throat; now each
day a precious sip.

I want to tell him
that I’m scared,
that I’ve been here before.
And that the last time I felt potential like this it imploded;
I imploded.
But I don’t want to taint it,
You see I’m still hopeful
That maybe this time
Won’t end up laced with maybes,
Or what ifs,
Or open wounds pouring blood onto paper.
That maybe this time,
just won’t end.

I’ve not quite worked out whether I think it’s beautiful,
Or stupid -
The human capacity,
And pliancy,
And longing,
For love.

if every poet who pours out a heart
wrote a little poem just to say thank    you
the servers might freeze up

if just a little bit of what we gave
were given back
if we just stood and saw

that it is given back
gave a round of applause
to not just the famous

poets here hello poetry
would live up to all the
promises